Live Review: Call The Cops: Bleeding Knees Club, DZ Deathrays

23 July 2012 | 10:57 am | Bryget Chrisfield

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The coolsie quota overflows on the Corner's rooftop tonight. It's enough to make you borrow your mate's lipstick and head to the powder room for a quick emergency application, even if she does have a coldsore. You can't afford to muck around at an I Oh You party. Phones are consulted for a time check and we despair: we've missed Drunk Mums again. Come on! They went on at ridiculous o'clock – 8pm start or something.

Cue gritty, sexy, vibratory sounds and DZ Deathrays have arrived to tear you a new one. Of course the band members crowd surf. In fact, there's almost as many entertaining antics happening in the crowd as there are onstage: a barrage of limbs launch toward the ceiling as eyes dart nervously about with survival mechanisms on high alert. DZ Deathrays have been touring relentlessly Stateside with Bass Drum Of Death and, even though it didn't seem they could get any better, they've improved out of sight. Okay, the last time this scribe gyrated to DZ was at their Tote show when they blew an amp and you could barely hear frontman Shane Parsons' dangerous yowl, but that night proved the duo's party intensity as able to push through any technical difficulty. It has to be said Parsons looks amazing backlit. At one point he simultaneously kneels to manually address pedals, helicopters his long, dark, curly locks and makes that guitar his bitch. The blondie, drummer Simon Ridley, attacks his kit like a baby dragon struck by a meth-tipped arrow. The Mess Up sees the pair fill every crevice in the room with electricity, even though their set-up barely utilises the downstage left quarter of the Corner stage. Anthem for the loose No Sleep unleashes and protective headwear suddenly seems like a fantastic idea. But let's illuminate Parsons once more. He is an incredibly magnetic presence up there and no amount of crowd surfing stunts can coax your peepers away from him. When Parsons escalates with the lines, “Lyin' on the kitchen floor/You wanna use me/Well use me FAAAaaast!” we're all on board. Don't tell him, though, 'cause if he gets cocky it might mess with his appeal. Pure, unadulterated, high-voltage rock'n'roll escapism: One plus one equals double trouble.

Really do not understand why Bleeding Knees Club did not precede their labelmates since a swaperoo would result in a more consistent escalation of speed and intensity. Similarly to the duo-turned-live-trio's recent show at Northcote Social Club, the crowd surf's up to such a degree that you'd swear you were watching an unruly audience demonstration with Bleeding Knees Club supplying the live soundtrack. There's not much movement onstage, but these boys know how to rile us up. Songs such as Teenage Girls and Bad Guys are celebrated for their simplicity and energy, but BKC sound super-lite after DZ's detonation. A flare is let off in the room and, although pink smoke plus pungent burning stench suits this evening's party name, no boys in blue are spotted. Just as we're wondering aloud where Johann Ponniah is and why mister I Oh You isn't putting a boogie board to good use, the subject sprints across the stage and hurtles himself horizontally into the crowd like a human missile.

This is almost too much fun for a Thursday night and, since Yacht Club DJs are Australia's answer to LMFAO, it's time for these “party rockers” to leave more dancefloor space for those who don't have to set the alarm and get up for work tomorrow.  

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